A Christmas dance Cinderella revisited
by Mrs Danvers
Summary: A bit late, but another Christmas dance story, this time for Robert and Jane fans.
1. Chapter 1

**The ****Downton Christmas dance**** – or, Cinderella re-visited **

Robert loves Downton at all times of year, in all seasons, and he especially loves it at Christmas. Impressive as the house is, it is stunning when it is decorated as it is now. Robert stands in the ballroom with Cora, looking appreciatively at the decorations, the tree, waiting to greet their guests. The staff are arriving, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Robert smiles, murmuring, "Merry Christmas," to each person as they pass him.

And there she is. Robert hasn't even thought about Jane being present. She looks…well. Pretty. No, lovely. He allows himself to admit that much. Robert has tried to keep his distance from Jane since that night, and….

He starts as the music begins, and takes a sip of wine. He can't ask her, although no one knew what had _almost _happened. No one would possibly suspect that…but…. It _is_ Christmas, after all. Robert sets his glass on a table, straightens his cuffs and begins to stride to Jane's side. _Yes, he can._

Jane has been working for the Crawleys for over a year now, but the house still amazes her. When she sees Christmas at Downton , she feels the same admiration she had felt the first time she saw the house. She had never imagined anything like it, had never even been able to imagine it. Nothing, she believes, can compare with Downton Abbey, _nothing_.

She had not realised that there is a servants' ball, or that she'll be invited to it. Last year, she spent Christmas with her family and had missed out on an invitation. Whenever there has been talk about the dance, and even more so after _that _night in particular, Jane has frequently found herself wondering and worrying about it, and what will happen. Sometimes, she hopes that Christmas will take longer to arrive, so that she has more time to think about how she should tackle this (what is _'this'_, she wonders. Perhaps it was the ball. Or other things?) Yet sometimes she is as excited as the other servants. Now the day is here, and it has come so quickly, she still isn't _quite_ sure how she feels, other than a mix of nerves and excitement.

Jane makes sure she is close to Anna when they enter the ballroom, so that she can see how to behave. In a dark blue dress, her hair arranged by Anna, she joins the crowd of guests, giving and returning seasonal greetings. She is glad of her dress's discreet colour for she doesn't want to stand out. It wouldn't do to attract a great deal of attention. It isn't her place to attract anyone's attention.

Yet, is it her place to look? Whether it is or not, she finds her eyes on _him_ as she looks around the room. What is she doing, looking in _his_ direction? Master and servant will mingle as equals tonight, but this could be going too far.

But is it, really? She doesn't think so; her eyes happened to find him as she took in the room and its beautiful appearance; the family ,the ladies, the gentlemen - she is bound to see him among them. There isn't anything wrong with that. No-one can blame her for looking.

Jane's attention is taken away from the family, from _him_, as the orchestra begins to play and the men begin to ask women to dance. She watches with a smile as the couples take to the floor and position themselves in the correct hold before taking the first steps of the waltz. Fleetingly she wonders who might ask her; and blushes slightly as she thinks that perhaps no one will. It doesn't matter, she's happy to watch the others.

A movement catches her attention and she turns her head slightly to see properly. Who is this man, coming towards them, a small group of maids, going to ask? Her breath catches in her throat and her smile falters when she sees that it is his lordship who is approaching them. She swallows nervously and turns her head back to the other girls and looks at the dancers again. Why does the mere sight of him provoke such a reaction?

She doesn't have to look in his direction again to know that he is walking closer and closer towards her. She half hopes that he will stop, ask another one of the maids who sits a few seats away instead. Yet, she dares to hope that he is coming to her. She attempts to take part in the conversation that is taking place - anything to stop her from hoping.

Robert slows as he reaches the line of waiting maids. He nods, smiling at each maid as he moves past them, making his way to Jane. He hasn't taken his eyes off her. She is not looking at him, however. His nerve falters but only for a moment. Robert presses on and at last he stands in front of her. "Happy Christmas." He had said it so often this evening but it doesn't feel the same now - _he _doesn't feel the same. He is suddenly anxious and excited… giddy.

"Jane - may I have the honour of this dance?" Robert asks, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He can feel his hand trembling as he offers it to her.

Jane looks up in surprise. One moment he is walking towards her, the next he is standing there. She does her best to be calm and natural.

_"Jane - may I have the honour of this__ dance?" - _she glances at his hand, then back to him, his eyes. She feels as if something heavy has been lifted from her chest. Was this what she had wanted? She can't answer that, she doesn't even quite know. She does know that it would be rude not to accept, and that it is kind of him to offer.

_"I…would very much like to, your Lordship."_ Robert hasn't realized he has been holding his breath until he hears her answer. Her small hand slips into his. Looking at her eyes he wonders if he has made a mistake. He shouldn't be singling her out like this, in front of everyone, in front of his wife. He has put her in an impossible position; it would be an incredible slight if she refused him. But is he leading her on or…does he really feel something for her? Lord, they haven't even begun dancing and he is already dizzy. Robert closes his eyes for a moment, attempting to compose himself.

"You look very…nice…Jane."he says hesitantly, gently placing his arm around her and taking her hand. He is all too aware of how close she is and how many people are watching them as they begin to dance.

She wonders what she should do. It would be very rude to not look into her partner's eyes when talking, especially when he's someone of a higher class who deserves respect. But Jane is worried, for both their sakes, if anyone sees them gazing at each other for too long.

No, that won't happen, it is only her who is being silly, who has the tiniest flicker of hope despite the chaos she _knows_ the fulfilment of her dreams would bring She is thinking too much, and making herself nervous as her hopes grow; making impossibilities seem more like possibilities because that's what she wants.

She must stop this immediately. It is wrong and it will never happen, it _can't_. The invitation to dance is nothing more than it appears to be. It's an invitation to dance, no more. But the what ifs still linger.

"You're very kind, your lordship. Thank you**,"** she says quietly, her eyes meeting his for a moment. Then she drops her gaze onto his chest as they dance, and focuses on the movement of her feet instead, so that she doesn't embarrass herself.

_This is nothing more than a dance,_ she tells herself, _nothing more._

It is something of a relief to him that she seems as anxious as he is. _"You're very kind,__ your Lordship. Thank you."_ Her slight smile makes something jump in his chest. He is grateful that she has lowered her eyes.

There it is. He does feel something for her. He is relieved that he isn't a complete villain taking advantage of her.

"And are you well, Jane? how is Freddie doing at school?" he asks, trying to appear casual. At the same time he wants Jane to know - to know that she does mean something to him. But what can he do here, now? He glances around quickly to make certain no one is looking at them. As they complete a turn, Robert gently tightens his arm around her waist and pulls her slightly closer to him. Jane gives a small gasp, but stifles it quickly. The music is loud enough for no-one but Robert to hear. He can feel her trembling in his arms, and all at once he wants to take her away from the dance and everyone there, carry her off to a place where there is no-one but the two of them and he can hold her in his arms for ever.

"_Are you well, Jane?"_

Her legs are shaking so much she can hardly make the steps of the waltz, and she knows he can feel it. Now she only wants the dance to be over so she can go back to her chair, hide in the crowd and try not to look at him again. _Please_, she prays, _don't let him hold me like this if he doesn't__ care for me even a little bit_. Jane isn't quite sure whether she's happy or sad that they will have to part soon. She wouldn't dare to admit it but despite her nerves she finds comfort and warmth in being so close to him.

_"Jane, I…" _he says quietly, then stops, fearful of being overheard. Instead he clasps her hand tightly – much more tightly than a dance partner should_._

No matter how quiet, she hears; for him, she will always hear. She looks up, and it is then that she decides she will look him in the eye for the rest of the dance. They will not dance together again and it is only good manners to smile amiably and chat meaninglessly.

His thumb is gently stroking hers. This… isn't... part of… waltzing… is it? Or did the aristocracy have different ways of doing things? She might want to believe that, but Jane knows that this is something more. There is something in this tiny gesture, but she doesn't know what.

Hadn't they - he - put it behind him? She has been sure it was the end of it for him. It might not be the same for her, but she has forced herself to push the memory away. So what is this supposed to mean? Should she be ashamed of herself, feeling like this again? More importantly, should she be ashamed she hopes that even though it isn't possible, it _is_ possible between them?

The sensible thing to do, the proper thing is to say and do nothing. However, do nothing and she'll have missed an opportunity, a chance, and endure for the rest of her life of _it __might have been, what if_. There's been enough of that the last few years - but she must be very careful what she says and does. Furthermore, she decides, she will take her cue from him.

"Yes… my lord?" she whispers back, meeting his eyes. He is so much taller than her, and they are so close, that she has to tilt her head back to do so.

Of course she's nervous. He suddenly realises how self indulgent he has been. He has been so worried about trying to show her what she means to him that he hasn't stopped to think that it's possible _he_ means nothing to _her_. He curses his own vanity.

But then she looks up at him and quietly asks, _"Yes…my lord?"_ and he can see that his fears are groundless, though he isn't certain why.

"I…I hope you're enjoying yourself. I hope I haven't been a disappointment." That's all he can manage. It's not what he wants to say to her but it's what he settles for. If only he could speak to her privately for a moment, to explain his feelings and, more importantly, to find out hers. If only she will understand that it's not his dancing that he means.

He realizes that they've been looking into each another's eyes for some time now. All he can think of is that night so long ago, the night that could have been. She had wanted him that night but does she want him still?

The musicians are playing the last bars of the waltz. Tense, awkward and stilted as it has been, he has enjoyed holding her in his arms.

She smiles up at him demurely as he escorts her back to her chair among the other maids, determined now on one last gamble and to show him she has understood his words. She might never have another chance. "Oh no, my lord. How could you think that you would ever be a disappointment to me in any way? Thank you for asking me to dance." She drops a small curtsy, he bows slightly and walks away, his head reeling with her last words.

**This is adapted from a blog I read over Christmas. I liked it so much that I have adapted, deleted, added and re-worded so that I've kept the spirit of the piece, and the sequence of events, but in my words. Thanks to the original writer for the great idea.**

**Thoughts, please. The second and final chapter is poised in the wings ready to make its entrance. **


	2. Chapter 2

**The Downton Christmas dance – or, Cinderella re-visited **

Jane has no wish to stay at the dance any longer - her thoughts are so chaotic that she would welcome the chance to be alone, and although she tries to make the excuse that her shoe is rubbing so much that she can't dance, Anna insists that she stay and at least watch, accusing her jokingly of being very grand after her waltz with the earl. Scared of betraying herself, Jane sits among her friends, not daring to look in Robert's direction or meet his eyes until the Crawley family and their guests leave the ballroom at midnight and the servants start to drift, tipsy and laughing, to their own quarters. No-one else has asked her to dance, but Jane does not care. She has danced with Robert, she is almost sure that he still cares for her and nothing that happens this evening can compare to that.

As Jane runs up the stairs to the servants quarters with Anna behind her, she feels that she has wings on her heels, and although she has drunk nothing but lemonade all evening, she feels as giddy as if she had been drinking glass after glass of champagne. She no longer cares about her doubts and fears, she is now sure of how she feels about Robert and refuses to think any further than that. The nature of what he feels for her is for the future. _Tomorrow_, she tells herself stoutly, i_s another day._

Anna sits on the end of Jane's bed, chattering incessantly about the dance and her partners as Jane kicks off her shoes and unfastens her dress. She longs for Anna to be gone so she can sit and be quiet, and at last Anna talks herself out of the room and Jane is alone.

She sits in front of her mirror, chin in hand, and examines her reflection. She has told him as clearly as she can in a roomful of people that she wants him, now she has to wait and see if her artful bait will be taken. If not - well, nothing lost. If it is - her eyes become blurred and dreamy with longing as she thinks of what might happen if Robert still wants her as much as he did that night, all those months ago. "I want you with every fibre of my being" he had said then, but did he still?

Jane's eyes fall on her husband's photograph, and her eyes fill with sudden tears. She misses him so much, but he wouldn't want her to mourn for ever. That night before he left for the last time, he'd told her that if he was killed she was not to be a grieving widow for long, that she should find a new love and be happy. Almost she feels that she has his permission for loving Robert, then smiles and shakes her head at such a fancy. He's dead, she tells herself bleakly. He won't know, one way or the other. She touches the face in the photo and kisses it , then stands up to undress. She slips her nightgown over her head, and as she lifts her hands to unpin her hair there is a tap at the door, so light she wonders if it is her imagination; but silently cursing Anna and her chat, she opens the door, giving a small cry of surprise at who stands outside.

"Jane" murmurs Robert as he steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

"My lord" she whispers. She is terrified that they will be heard, delighted that he is here. She doesn't know what to do, so she stands still and does nothing, waiting for him. She has made her move, now it is for him to make his.

He holds out his hands, and after a moment, gently, tentatively, she holds out hers and their fingers touch. For a moment they stand, hand in hand, looking into each other's eyes, then she is in his arms and they are kissing, kissing so hard and passionately that he can't remember the last time he kissed a woman like this, or held one so close against him. His arms are tight around her, almost lifting her off her feet, and she puts her arms around his neck and presses her body against his as his hands tug at the combs holding her hair so that it tumbles around her face and down her back like a stream of night-dark water.

At last they break apart and stare at each other, both breathing hard, before he cups her face in his hands, then kisses her eyelids, her throat, her shoulders as his hands slide the shoulders of her nightgown down her arms. Jane manages to seize the gown just before it falls below her breasts and holds it firmly against her body, slipping it back up to her shoulders.

"My lord -"

"Robert," he murmurs, as he wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the side of her neck.

Her body is clamouring for his, but they can't - not now, not here, with his family sleeping only yards away and other servants within earshot. This isn't the right time and place but if he doesn't stop it very soon will be. She pushes at his chest and, reluctantly, he lets her go.

"Robert -"

"Jane. I knew you could say it". He is holding her hand now, and is kissing each finger, the palm, the inside of her wrist, sending sweetly disturbing sensations all through her body and making her heart pound with excitement and arousal. He drops her hand and kisses her again, his hands caressing her breasts.

"Not here - not now" she manages to gasp. _Please, don't let him think I don't want him after all._

Robert is in no danger of thinking anything of the kind, but she has reminded him where they are. He kneels before her and, wrapping his arms firmly around her legs, presses his face against her thighs. She can feel his warm breath on her skin through the thin cotton, and she is trembling again as she did in the dance, with a certainty both sweet and hot that _this is going to happen, this is going to happen. _Greatly daring, she runs her fingers through his hair as he kneels at her feet, and for a while they cling together in silent longing. _Let this last for ever, let there be no-one else in the world but us, let there be no other room but this._

At last he looks up at her, and she strokes his face. "Jane"

The lamplight is shining on her skin like gold and her eyes are sparkling with joy as their eyes meet. She smiles shyly at him, and his heart is warmed by happiness.

"Robert". She runs her finger along the side of his jaw, across his lips and touches the tip of his nose and his ear. How handsome he is, kneeling at her feet like a worshipper. He shouldn't kneel to her, him of all people.

"You mustn't stay too long. Someone might have heard us. And you shouldn't -"

"- be here." he finishes. "After dancing with you tonight," he said simply, " I couldn't sleep without seeing you, speaking to you."

He sighs, rests his cheek lightly against her belly and starts stroking the small of her back, not wanting to break the spell of these moments. "I have to see you tomorrow, Jane. I must see you again - I want -" he can't say the words, they sound crude and possessive, not at all like him, and not at all how he feels, but she knows.

She smiles lovingly, touching his cheek, his mouth, as he lifts his face to look at her again. She can't stop touching him, she doesn't want to stop touching him.

"Yes, it will be soon, I promise. You will see me tomorrow. It's already tomorrow. You will have to be "my lord" again for a while." She is babbling, not making sense, even to herself; but he watches her mouth as she speaks, that sweet smiling mouth that he wants on his again, not caring what she says.

Rising to his feet, he takes her hands and leans his brow on hers. _How small she is, h__ow slender_, he thinks_. I want to take care of her_. _I don't want to be my lord, I don't even want Downton if it means I can't be with her. _

"Soon", she repeats, as though he has spoken aloud. He doesn't even have to speak, she knows his thoughts. "Very soon."

He lets go of her hands, puts a finger under her chin and tips her face for his kiss. "Sleep well, Jane. I will see you tomorrow, and be my lord again for a little while. "

She walks to the door, opens it and tiptoes a little way down the corridor to be sure the coast is clear. He stands in the doorway and watches her, slim in her white gown and with her hair tumbled down her back, and he shivers with tenderness, longing, and yes, he has to admit it now, love. When he saw her this evening, since he held her in his arms as they danced, his mind has been bemused with questions that only she can answer. Now there is no doubt. He loves Cora, of course he does, she's his wife and the mother of his children and if it wasn't for her he wouldn't have Downton, but something fundamental and deep has changed over the last couple of years. Cora has her own life now, with her charities and her new-found interest in politics, and it's a long time since he felt that he is included in that life. There isn't passion any more, the closeness they shared for such a long time and he doesn't know whether it's him, his wife, or the war that has caused the rift that seems to get wider by the day. He should try to bridge it, but when he thinks of Jane, he doesn't want to. Months ago he had guiltily, wretchedly wondered what was happening to him, how he could love two women, how had he fallen out of love with his wife and in love with the maid, and he had had no answer. Now, he thinks, I need none. The other women he thought he had loved, even Cora - they are the notes. She is the song.

She beckons that it's safe and he walks quietly past her, feeling her eyes on him, along the corridor, down the stairs, through the house to his own rooms, where his new valet is waiting to help him get ready for bed. He has made some excuse to sleep in his own room for the last few nights, and as he climbs into bed he thinks that he should feel guilty about that too, and about what he and Jane have done tonight. _Not now_, he thinks sleepily, _not t__onight_.

Sleep is weaving a shimmering haze around him, and as he slips into it still thinking of Jane and wondering how long it will be before they can be together again, a long-forgotten verse from his schoolboy Latin drifts into his mind

_I will love my__ sweetly-smiling, sweetly-speaking Lalage_.

Smiling himself, he sleeps.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Back in her room, Jane stands in the middle of the floor, the only movement the unruly thudding of her heart. She can see it, pulsing under her skin. _It beats for him_, she thinks_, it will always beat for him_. Hands clasped in front of her, she moves towards the window, and stands for a while looking out at the silent moonlight. It's so beautiful. Everything tonight is so beautiful. She moves towards the mirror, and starts to plait her hair for the night but drops her hands, not wanting to bother with it now. She twists her head to and fro, feeling her hair brush her back, imagining the soft, silken touch is his hands on her skin, then, dreamily, happily, she turns toward her bed, turns down the covers and slips between the chilly sheets. So much has happened to her - to them both - since she entered the ballroom tonight that she is surprised to find herself doing normal things like brushing her hair and climbing into bed. She feels as unreal as a princess of fairy tale - rescued from a witch's spell of drudgery and loneliness, and borne on a magic carpet to a life full of enchantment. She slides further down into bed, stretching her legs, and closes her eyes. She doesn't want to sleep, but to lie and think about Robert, about this evening, of their love and how happy they are going to be; of how lucky she is, of how her life has changed for ever. Eventually she yawns, turns over, and drifts into sleep. _Happy ever after_, she thinks with a contented smile. _They live happily ever after._

**I was going to follow up with hand holding and mutual angst and a bit of "I'm taking advantage of you, we shouldn't do this, I can't help myself" in the library when everyone has gone to bed – then I thought, ooh look, I've re-written Cinderella, so let's have fun and a (sort of) happy ending. I love this couple, and I'm very fed up with JF for not letting them be happy together, even for a while. **


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